Where I'm Supposed to Be
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Tag for Episode 3:13. When Mac is injured in the field, Jack knows exactly where he is supposed to be.


Where I'm Supposed to Be

By: Ridley

A/N: Okay, so I said I was not going to do it, then I got two very sweet messages asking me to at least consider giving a short tag to this latest episode, 3:13, although I am still hoping 'Someone' will completely re-write the episode and put Jack in the field with Mac, Riley and Bozer. This Is not that story. I felt a tug on my heart to add on to it though, and honestly was a little afraid of what might come of this. It is separate from the vision I have for the way Jack leaves Phoenix but stays with Mac, the tale that Mary and I have been unfolding in _Let's Be Enemies_ …but I felt Jack needed to have a little say in this episode because of the obvious foreshadowing and portends to why he might go. It was one of the few I have watched this season and I admit to mostly watching the Jack and Matty parts but come on…the hurt/comfort possibility alone was enough to have me consider it. So, for those of you who asked for this, I hope it is at least close to what you were expecting, and I promise _Let's Be Enemies_ will be back on the front burner. I would love to hear your thoughts.

RcJ

" **Maybe you leave because you long to know. Maybe you leave not because of longing but because you must."**

-Marissa Donelly, Somewhere on a Highway

Jack Dalton had always been a man who knew where he was supposed to be. Call it a good internal compass or an uncanniness to merely sense where to stake his tent, the knack had never steered him wrong. Even when others, those he loved and respected had tried to maneuver him in other directions, he'd dogmatically clung to his own plan, self-possessed and assured of his inborn guidance system and its uncanny knack to never lead him astray. And it hadn't.

Just as Jack could set a plane down with unbelievable precision and put a bullet in a sweet spot the size of a dime, he could also place himself in the center of where he was meant to be with pinpoint accuracy. He'd known when he'd joined the ranks of the Army despite his father's protests that it was where he belonged. Jack had felt the same certainty when he became a CIA agent, and when he left the world of espionage to go back to Delta. But never had his vision been so clear as when he decided to re-up for a tour in Afghanistan with the sole intention of watching out for one certain bomb nerd. Jack had known-still knew- with every fiber of his being, along with every well-honed and trusted instinct that he was supposed to stay in the desert with Mac, just as he was destined to bring the kid into DXS, to pass along everything he knew about being an agent.

So, even though he'd joked with Matty about her belief that Ethan was where he was supposed to be and she was as well-which put her right there beside his lame ass in their Jerky stinking SUV- he'd done so with the complete understanding of where she was coming from. He ached for his old friend,which was one of the reasons he'd opted to go with her instead of joining his team in the field for wilderness survival training. Jack didn't particularly enjoy roughing it, but he would have loved watching Riley and Bozer endure one of Angus MacGyver's enthusiastic field trips into the wild. Nowhere, except for maybe a tricked out science lab, or perhaps an IED strewn patch of desert, did Jack's partner shine more in his element than when explaining how to survive with nothing but your wits and a Swiss Army Knife. It would have been fun to watch.

He was trying to envision it all and imagine the stories Mac would tell and the exaggerations and embellishments Bozer would no doubt add once they were all back together in LA when Matty's cell phone rang, breaking the silence around them. He'd left her to her thoughts after they'd gotten back on the road, neither of them in much of a mood for idle chitchat, and no way wanting to rehash the past any further, neither Matty's with Ethan or Jack's with Tiberius Kovacs. The mood had been so solemn, Jack hadn't even turned on the radio, fearing even Waylon or Willie might not work their magic.

Just the thought of the dead terrorist had been enough to send chills down Jack's spine and put a permanent damper on any fun to be had on the way back home. Tiberius was a cold-hearted killer, a Hungarian mercenary who had taken jobs not caring for the lives he might destroy. Jack knew for a fact he'd murdered women and children alike without regard, his last known strike in a busy museum in Syria where he'd been hired to take out a political player's son. Jack had not once doubted he was where he was supposed to be when he'd lain in wait in a blind on the top of an abandoned warehouse patient for the moment Kovacs would step from the back entrance of his favorite seedy bar and Jack would put an end to him.

He pushed a niggling worry about what the picture might mean from his mind as he zeroed in on his director's conversation, detecting the slight change of tone in her voice. He thought he'd heard her say Landry's name, his second in command of tactical teams, imagined she was getting a report on any number of missions they had in the field. But then her inflection went a bit higher and Jack thought he might have seen her tense, ever so slightly, the fingers of her free hand curling against her jeans.

"And what's his condition?" Matty asked, then after a moment, added, "I see. Keep me updated on that as soon as you know more from medical."

Jack tried to pacify himself with thoughts of his own paranoia as gooseflesh rose along his arms, the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. He reasoned he was rattled after the photo of Tiberius and the quick glance Matty had sent his way meant absolutely nothing. After all, anyone would be a little primed for the worst after an unwelcomed memory from the past. Kovacs was the kind of monster that when on the loose made a man want to do a quick head count of all his loved ones, just in case. Jack suddenly longed to do just that but his family was hundreds of miles away, his kid far out of site, and completely out of his reach. It was enough to inspire undue worry, even if he knew in his gut that Tiberius Kovacs wasn't a threat. Couldn't be a threat. Not anymore.

"Make arrangements for a flight home from the closest airport to our current location and text me back the details," Matty continued in her nonsense way. "Check the private strips if you have to. I want the first available. ASAP."

"What's going on, boss lady?" Jack kept his voice teasing, light, as he watched his director end the call and place her phone face up on her lap so she'd catch the incoming information she'd just requested. "Don't tell me you've decided this little road trip with me isn't where you're supposed to be after all."

"The flight's not for me. It's for you." Matty turned in her seat and though Jack was watching the road he sensed her weighty gaze, could easily call to mind the unflappable visage of her face. "This is about where _you_ need to be."

"What's wrong?" Jack slowed down a bit, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. When she didn't answer right away, he whipped his gaze to her. "Matilda? What the hell is going on?"

"It seems our kids ran into a bit of trouble during the training exercise."

Jack still held onto hope as he forced a half grin he in no way felt. "Let me guess, Bozer mistook a skunk for a kitten or Riley went searching for cell service and fell out of a tree." She'd done that once, fell from a tree that was, when she was about ten. Diane had blamed Jack for the sprung wrist and banged up knee as he might have been the one to suggest she climb it.

"Mac was kidnapped by a group of high stakes thieves needing a wilderness guide to lead them to their money drop. Riley and Bozer managed to get him back but not before he was shot by the gang's leader."

"What?" Jack swerved the SUV to the side of the road, slamming it into gear and turning on his director, who did not look pleased with his Evel Knievel antics. He swiveled in his seat, not quite believing Mac's uncanny penchant for trouble and his freaking penchant for badluck. The only thing keeping him from full blown panic mode was the fact Matty had delivered the news while he was driving. If it had been very serious she would have waited until they'd stopped or demanded Jack pull over beforehand. "Is he alright? Tell me damn it."

Matty held up a hand, her face as frustratingly unreadable as usual. "Blondie is fine, Jack." When Jack narrowed his gaze in disbelief, she sighed. "At least as fine as someone who's sporting a GSW to the leg can be. The bullet's still in there, but he's being airlifted to Phoenix as we speak. Landry said Riley called for an exfil and when they got to them Mac was awake and talking, if not a little out of it from the blood loss and shock."

"Then why the hell did you just pull out all stops to get me a flight to LA. If he's hurt worse than you're letting on, Matty, then I need to…"

"Jack," Matty reached across the cab to clamp a hand on his arm, her fingers tightening around his wrist. "When it comes to Mac, I wouldn't lie to you, or keep something from you. I know what he means to you." She seemed to intuit what he was thinking about James MacGyver and the man's role as Oversight and how she had helped James hide his identity. She rushed to add, "I wouldn't keep you in the dark about Mac's health, not when he's been hurt."

"Okay," Jack nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He gently tugged his arm away, running his hand through his hair. It had been a hell of a day, but he'd had far worse. He'd survived his partner being snatched by a calculating drug lord and being taken by Murdoc-twice. "Mac's shot, but not in a bad way. Are Bozer and Riley okay?"

"Landry said they were fine, but I know how you feel it's your job to watch out for MacGyver." Matty held his gaze, looking fractionally guilty. For the first time Jack wondered if she also had her suspicions about James motivations behind sending Jack on so many solo missions. "I asked for the flight because you're also the only one he will listen to when he's injured. I need you there to sit on him if necessary. I learned that lesson the hard way when The Ghost reappeared and you were in Brazil."

"Let's not forget the countless other times lately that I've been conveniently out of the picture when my kid has needed me," Jack tossed out with a growl. It was hard not to be pissed at her when he thought of his reassignments as of late, to see her as being complacent with the enemy even though he knew she was on his side, more importantly she was on _Mac's_ side. But he wouldn't bring it up when she was being uncharacteristically understanding and generous with Phoenix resources. Interacting with Ethan's daughter had possibly stirred her maternal instincts. Whatever the real reason, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Those missions weren't in my control," Matty hedged, eluding to what they both knew. Oversight had been the one to make those calls. "But this time… _I_ owe you, Jack. You chose to come along to relocate Ethan, and I appreciate that more than you'll ever know."

"No one wants to let go of someone they love, Matty." Jack sighed, running a hand down his mouth. He had been there not too long ago. Letting Mac leave Phoenix, seeing him living another life with a new group of people he cared about was beyond bittersweet. It was a bit like torture, but for Mac's sake he'd been willing to step aside and let it happen. "Trust me, I know."

"I know you do." Matty gestured to her phone where a message had just come through. "Which is why I'd think you'd want to get us back on the road, that is if you don't want to miss your flight which leaves in fifteen minutes. You might want to engage some of those legendary, tactical driving skills you're always bragging about because Landry got you the last seat on a non-stop flight into Long Beach."

"You're not coming with me?" Jack asked as he edged them back into the light traffic, for once not caring if he was flying commercial. He'd take a freaking seat on a circus train if it got him to his kid any quicker.

"It's not me that Mac needs to see." She turned to look out the passenger window. "Besides, I think the drive without certain company might be a nice change of pace."

"But who will you play road trip games with?" Jack asked, following her lead to reclaim some levity as he stomped on the gas.

She snorted. "It's a sacrifice, but one I'm willing to make for Baby Einstein. I owe him, too."

"Thanks, Matty." Jack glanced at his director again, his voice serious once more. "I'm the one who owes you this time."

Matty cut her gaze to him, a rare smile lighting her brown eyes, the first genuine one he'd seen since they left LA a few days before. "Just leave me the beef Jerkey, Dalton, and we'll call it even."

Jack wasn't sure if all the snacks from his favorite 7-11 on the sunset strip would repay the debt he owed his director as the Uber dropped him at Mac's door. He'd called Riley as soon as he'd touched down at the airport to get a not so surprising update. After having the bullet removed and a couple of hours with an IV, Mac had insisted on going home. She'd dropped a worn out Bozer, the drowsy patient and a fully filled prescription of meds there not even an hour before.

Traffic had been light by LA standards and Jack was surprised at the feat Bozer had apparently accomplished in the short time he'd been home. Jack had used his key to open the door only to be greeted by a wealth of welcoming smells. The undeniable aroma of baking bread, simmering stew and possibly even something sweet greeted his senses. If he'd been a cartoon character his feet would have lifted off the ground and a visible trail of smells would have pulled him like a tow line into Mac's kitchen.

"Jack!" Bozer turned from the oven, his familiar chef's apron strapped around him. He was holding a grater and a block of cheese which he sat on the island as Jack made his way over. Instead of exhausted he appeared ramped up. "I wasn't expecting you for a while yet."

"If you weren't expecting me, what's with the preparations for the king's feast." Jack grinned at the array of pots and pans, milk, butter, and other ingredients strewn all over the counter. The stove top was full, every eye red hot and going. There were potato peelings, egg shells, and remnants of apples and carrots littering the granite surface. Bozer's face was smeared with flour. Jack was pretty sure he could smell beef and glanced towards the stove where sure enough the notorious slow cooker was going.

"This," Bozer moved to the counter and returned with another plate of cheese which he placed on the island with a flourish of pride. "Is the makings for the finest dinner known to man. It's going to be a culinary delight for the senses, one that would cause a fasting man to weep. It's going to more than make up for the days- _days_ \- of starving in the wilderness. You are welcome to join me and Mac if you like. I think there may be just enough sense Riley turned down my invitation."

Jack snorted as he took in the room that looked as if Martha Stewart, Bobby Flay and Paula Dean had hooked up for a wild romping threesome of food-making. Nana Beth would have been appalled. "I take it you weren't impressed with our buddy's improvised eating plan?"

"Impressed?" Bozer reacted as if Jack had slapped him. "Repulsed is more like it. I only thought those poor bastard vegans and the gluten free were deprived, Jack." Bozer pulled on some oven mitts, waving his hands dramatically over the counter. "No meat, no dairy or processed sugar is bad enough. But until you've been forced to live on Cattails and questionable beetles a man doesn't realize the depravity and horror of dietary restrictions." Bozer shook his head, giving Jack a deadly serious stare. "Mark my words. I will never leave this house again without a power bar and some granola stashed in my pants. I'm thinking of sewing a secret pocket in my underwear just for the occasion."

"Mac cleaned out your cooler, didn't he?" Jack couldn't help but to grin. The kid had done the same thing to him a time or two. Once even on a fishing trip, just for fun.

"Every. Last. Thing. Damn him." Bozer moved to the stove, still muttering curses. He took a moment to lift a lid and stir something in one of his many pots, then opened the oven and pulled a pan out to check it before sliding it back in. Removing the mitts he tossed them to the side, and opened the refrigerator pulling out two beers. He offered one to Jack with a regretful grimace. "He even threw out the graham crackers, Hershey's and marshmallows, man. Who does that?"

"Well, from what I hear lacking the proper ingredients for Smores was the least of your problems, brother." Jack took the drink, popping the top and taking a long sip. He was grateful for the gesture, one which made him feel more at home than the amazing spread of food being prepared before him. He'd have been just as happy with takeout from their favorite Chinese joint but had a good inclination that Bozer was doing more than making up for missing meals. When the shit hit the fan on a mission Mac had his running. Jack had Die Hard marathons. And Bozer, Bozer cooked.

As if to prove Jack's point, darkness flashed across the younger agent's face as he met the former Delta's knowing gaze. It was a look Jack hadn't seen since Murdoc had murdered Jill, one he'd never witnessed on Bozer's features before that same sociopath's plan to take down Phoenix had left the younger man with a life-threatening knife wound.

"It got intense out there," Bozer said finally, with a nonchalant shrug. "But nothing we couldn't handle."

The lack of explanation and embellishment that Jack had hoped might come from the trip had of course been stolen by the hands on experience his teammates had unwittingly been treated to instead. There was nothing funny about watching someone you loved be hurt, no way to spin it into an amusing conversation.

"So Matty said." Jack tipped the beer bottle towards his friend acknowledging that he knew the whole story.

Bozer nodded, seemingly grateful Jack didn't need a full on debrief. A hint of smile twitched at his mouth. "Riley and I had a bet you'd be here before the morning, but Mac wagered fifty that you'd make it sooner. That you'd be in time for dinner once you heard what happened."

"What can I say, my boy knows me." Jack took another drink, hoping to wash away the bitter taste of regret for not being there for them- all of them-a whole hell of a lot sooner.

"I thought it was just wishful thinking on his part, or maybe the drugs talking." Bozer glanced towards the hallway and Jack followed his line of sight. When the younger man looked back at him there was a different kind of emotion in his eyes. One that hinted at his own sort of regret. "From the time he was taken by those guys, I'm pretty sure he wished to hell you'd been there instead of us. But when he was shot, and hurting…well, I knew good and well who he needed to be there. It sure wasn't the B-team. It was you."

Jack swallowed thickly, gave a quick shake of his head. Not only to erase the images of his partner hurt and bleeding at the hands of a gang of ruthless thugs but to erase any insecurity his young teammate had about the feat he and Riley had managed.

"I doubt that, Boze," he spoke before running a hand over his mouth. "Hell, it sounds like you and Ri saved the day without me. You two are heroes. More than that, Matty said you passed the training with flying colors which means she won't ask you to go back into the woods with our very own Davy Crockett anytime soon."

"Still…it wasn't exactly how you'd have handled it."Bozer's brow furrowed with dogged doubt and Jack reached out to gripped his shoulder.

"Bozer, man, you got Mac home. Alive. You and Riley are safe. In the end, that's all that _ever_ matters. You hear me? You come back with the team you left with, every last man and woman accounted for. You understand. That's what makes a good soldier, and a good agent."

Jack gave him another reassuring nod, but quickly let him go when the younger man's big brown eyes looked brighter, relief and gratitude filling them so that Jack got the distinct impression that the chef might do as his apron suggested and actually give him a sloppy wet kiss. He took a step back and gestured towards the hallway. "So is our boy actually back there in bed? Resting?"

"Yeah," Bozer quickly wiped at his eyes and gave a sharp nod. "Believe it or not, he didn't argue taking the meds Dr. Carl prescribed which probably tells you how bad his leg was hurting. I told him if he'd get some sleep I'd wake him up when dinner was ready."

"And is it?" Jack raised a brow at the disaster that was the kitchen. "Almost ready?"

"Not quite." Bozer put down his beer and rubbed his hands together as if he could read Jack's sincere disbelief they'd be eating anytime soon. "There's some simmering that needs to be done, bread that needs to finish baking, and I still have the piece de resistance to get underway. That's right!" He waved to the grater. "My mom's famous, ridiculously ooey-gooey mac and cheese bake. Guaranteed to erase all human ills, including any trace of the disaster that was cattails from my mouth, as well as taking away any nightmares Mac might have about his unplanned treasure hunt in the forest."

"Can't wait, dude." Jack gave a thumbs up and started towards Mac's room. He hesitated as Bozer's words sank in, recalling how Mac had once described Bozer's signature pasta recipe when he was hurt and they were trapped in Helmand. _It tastes like happiness_. The kid had followed it up by asking Jack to get him home and that had been the end of their time in the desert and the beginning of DXS. He turned back towards the kitchen. "Hey, Boze."

"Yeah, man?" Bozer cocked a brow when Jack just stared at him.

"Thanks, brother. Really."

"For what?"

"For having Mac's back out there. Especially when I couldn't." Jack didn't give the younger man time to respond, or to dole out one of his bone crushing Bozer hugs. Instead he turned quickly, making his way to see for himself that his partner was alright.

The last light of the day shown through the windows bathing the room in golden California sunshine. Mac was sprawled on the bed atop the blankets, sporting a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It looked as if he'd taken scissors to the left leg, the swath of bandages covering his thigh exposed in the improvised one-sided shorts. The shirt was one from Jack's old enlisted days, thread bear and too big for the kid. It had been carried off from Jack's place years ago, no doubt during one of Mac's impromptu recovery stays after he was hurt, in the days when he still had to hide out from Bozer when he sustained injuries he just couldn't explain away.

Jack quietly rolled the chair from Mac's desk over to the side of the bed, dodging the backpacks tossed in the center of the floor, the familiar hiking boots. Taking a seat, he sighed. In some ways he missed the days when Mac would hole up at his place, the downtime they'd wile away watching movies or recorded ballgames they'd not had a chance to catch because of one assignment or another. Sometimes Nikki would bring food and Jack would head out after they'd all gorged themselves on pizza or Thai to give the lovebirds some alone time.

But when Jack came home, Mac would still be there. During those times Jack's apartment felt like home instead of a glorified hotel room or temporary base of operations. Most nights the kid would have his nose buried in a book, or be up to his frontal cortex in the midst of destroying and reassembling one of Jack's appliances which he swore wasn't working at full capacity. Sometimes they'd have marathon video game sessions or play a never-ending game of chess. These days, Jack spent most of his down time at Mac's place. Mostly that was okay, because he loved Bozer and Riley, even Matty and the other cast of characters that came and went in a revolving door of Saturday night bonfires and Tuesday poker games. Sometimes though…he missed those days when it was just him and Mac.

"I guess that's pretty selfish of me, huh, bud?" Jack spoke softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Mac's face was turned toward him, and even in sleep there were lines of discomfort. Jack catalogued the bruises, the busted lip. As his eyes trailed over his partner's lithe form, he took in the bandaged hand that was wrapped in stark white like Mac's leg. He wondered if he could get alone time with the one remaining bad guy, the leader who'd killed his own people. Riley had told him Mac bashed the guy in the head with a big ass rock, but that they expected him to pull through, which he was sure would make the kid glad, but Jack, not so much. HIs conscience wasn't wired like his partner's.

Jack didn't expect the kid to wake, but was still slightly disturbed by how still he stayed. As someone who'd shared tents and the occasional sleeping bag when necessary Jack could attest to the fact that his partner didn't usually rest so soundly. Mac slept, to borrow a phrase from his Nana Beth, like a cat in a paper bag, as if he were always looking for a way out, a reason to bound awake at the least prompting.

"Doc Carl must have really loaded you up with the good stuff, brother." Jack rubbed at his own weary eyes, grateful he could see the slow rise and fall of his best friend's chest. He knew that sometimes deep slumber brought relief, but it could also open up the dark places Mac tried to stay on top of. There was a reason neither of them liked the damn drugs. Bozer was right, it was a testament to the pain Mac was in that he succumbed to the need for them. As if the kid wanted to prove Jack right, he whimpered in his sleep and Jack swung his gaze to the younger man's face.

Mac's head moved slightly, rolling side to side on the pillow as his brow furrowed more. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. Jack held his breath, hoping maybe the kid might slip back into a peaceful state. But that wasn't to be and instead Mac mumbled something, words unintelligible at first. But then...

"No. Don't." He sounded younger, desperate and afraid, which was rare and so unlike Mac that Jack moved from the chair to sit on the bed.

He let his hand hover above the kid's chest, before dropping it to his side, letting his fingers wrap around his partner's wrist, lightly brushing his thumb over Mac's pulse point. It was probably arrogant on his part, but Jack imagined his presence might be enough to scare away whatever bad thing was shadowing the kid in dream world, as if he could chase it off by merely making contact.

"Stop…" Mac grew more agitated, his shallow breathing becoming more labored, the bandaged hand flailing slightly. Jack made the decision that sleep wasn't worth the kid facing whatever was tormenting him, not alone. He hadn't been able to keep him safe from the bad guys in real time, but he sure as hell could protect him now.

"Mac? Hey, partner." Jack moved his hand to Mac's shoulder, giving a little shake. "Come on, kiddo. Wake up."

He watched his friend's face, bracing himself for what might be coming. He kept one hand on Mac's shoulder, knowing the younger agent was lightning quick. His reflexes were rarely dulled even when drugged and Jack didn't want him to come up swinging and hurt himself. He leaned closer and said Mac's name again.

Blue eyes sprung open and the kid gave a gasp. Just as Jack thought, he tried to spring up and would have made it if Jack hadn't caught both shoulders, holding him in place.

"Easy now."

"Let me go!" Mac growled the instant he realized he was restrained. His eyes might have been open but he wasn't quite awake.

"Hey. Mac. It's me. It's Jack." Jack was mindful to keep out of Mac's swinging radius, keeping his voice calm.

Mac twisted, groaning as he moved his legs to try and scramble away. Jack held on tighter when the kid gasped in pain. "Angus! Stop. It's me."

Whether it was the use of his first name or the fact Mac had finally woken up due to the jarring of his injured leg, Jack wasn't sure, but the kid stopped fighting him. His head snapping up to stare wide-eyed and confused at Jack's face.

"You…" He looked around the room, eyes settling back on Jack. "How? I'm home?"

"You're home." Jack released one of the kid's shoulders, settling a hand on the back of his best friend's neck, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're safe. I'm here."

"Bozer? Riley?" Mac still looked a bit panicked, his breath ragged as Jack watched him fight for control of his emotions, to push all the bad shit back inside the box. One hand come up to twist in the front of Jack's shirt, the other rubbing over his forehead. "Where…"

"Bozer's playing Captain Domestic out in the kitchen and Riles mentioned going home for a double date with her favorite bubble bath and that high dollar wine she's come to like, the one Billy boy turned her onto." Jack rolled his eyes, grinning.

Mac blinked up at him still a little wild-eyed. He seemed to be trying to work it out in that big head of his if he was truly awake or if Jack was about fade away into another nightmare landscape. Jack stayed still, steady. The only thing he moved was the hand on Mac's neck, he tightened his grip ever so gently. Years of working together, knowing each other's rhythms had taught him what Mac needed, when he needed it. His patience was rewarded when the kid gave a half laugh, actually curling forward to rest his forehead against Jack's shoulder for a brief second, before straightening again and running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"I might never go camping again, Jack," he huffed and Jack felt a wash of relief for the first time since Matty had told him what happened. The kid was okay. "I'm definitely not volunteering to teach survival skills."

Jack snorted, reaching up to cup the back of Mac's head for just a moment now, taking a second of affirmation for himself. Tactile confirmation that his best friend was still alive and breathing. "I might hold you to that, bud. Maybe we stick to leisurely trips to Harry's cabin from now on and leave the training to Landry."

Mac stared at him, glassy eyes not as frantic, but still holding a touch of fear that made Jack want to rip someone's throat out. "I thought he was going to kill them."

Jack didn't need to ask who 'he' was or about the 'them'. "Not a chance, brother. Not with you around."

"I wasn't much help." Mac shook his head, slowly letting go of Jack's shirt. He brought the arm to curl around his side, wincing.

Jack clenched his jaw, trying to keep his anger in check. He gave the kid's neck another gentle squeeze and then leaned back a little out of the kid's personal space. "That's not what I hear." He gestured to Mac's hand that was bandaged. "I'm guessing you found an inventive way to handle the situation just fine."

"Actually they mostly took each other out." He lifted the hand in question, and nodded to his leg, looking almost sheepish as if he were the rookie and not the expert in the field. "I managed to burn my hand and get shot. Bozer and Riley took care of the rest. Took care of me."

"You all three did good." Jack wanted to make sure his partner understood that he was proud of him, of their whole team. He grinned to lighten his next words. "While I'm all up for realistic training maneuvers, I can say with a fair amount of certainty as the head of Tactical that I would have not signed off on the hands on approach you took to teaching our teammates how to respond to a hostage situation and the measures needed in field triage for bullet wounds."

As Jack hoped, Mac managed a familiar smirk, leaning slowly back against the head of the bed. "And I can say with a fair amount of certainty that any objections you might bring up have nothing to do with your position as head of Tactical at Phoenix and everything to do with you thinking you should protect me from everything.

"Like I told Bozer earlier, you do know me well." Jack folded his arms over his chest, raising a brow. Mac still looked a bit shaky, his face pale, except for the violet shadows under his eyes. Jack wanted to ask if he should have stayed at Phoenix medical under Nurse Sally's watchful eye for at least twenty four hours, but didn't want to give his best friend a reason to erect his unassailable defenses-the ones even Jack had a hard time getting past once they were firmly in place. He raised a brow, letting the idea go. "And while protecting you from 'everything' might not be possible, I do think I should at least be able to thwart would be killers and stop anyone from putting a bullet in you. That's been my mission for a lot of years, brother."

Mac rubbed a hand over his eyes, fighting back a yawn. "Sometimes people get new unexpected missions, Tombstone."

Jack wasn't sure why the casual observation and the old nickname sent his heart into overdrive but it did. If he was a superstitious man, which of course he was, he'd admit it sounded too much like foreshadowing. His chest tightened and it took some effort to keep any reaction from showing on his face. "How's that?"

"Like needing to act as _Matty's_ overwatch for a change." Mac's attempt at a smile faded into a frown as Jack apparently failed at keeping his look of nonchalance in place. "Is she okay?" Mac leaned a little closer, the weariness in his eyes disappearing for a moment. "Did something happen with Ethan?"

"No, no," Jack shook his head. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, cursing his runaway emotions. He was letting the mysterious text get to him. "I mean it sucked," He held Mac's gaze. "But Ethan and his family are safe for now, and Matty's good, well, as good as she can be with her husband being married to another woman and having a kid and all."

"Did she fly back with you?" Mac looked around the room as if he expected their director to suddenly materialize from the shadows that were growing longer in the waning light.

"No, I hopped the first plane out of Nebraska when Landry updated us on what had happened. Matty decided to road trip it back solo."

Mac's smile returned, he blinked. "I knew you'd be here before dinner. Bozer and Riley owe me fifty."

"Glad I could score you some extra cash, bud. Can't deny that finding out you'd been kidnapped and shot was one hell of a motivator for me to make haste." Jack tilted his head, giving Mac another close once over. "It seems I can't leave these days without something bad happening to you."

"I'm sorry." Mac looked truly repentant about what had been completely out of his control. It wasn't like he could stop being a psychopath magnet.

"I think this goes without saying…but totally not your fault." Jack glanced at the kid's bandaged leg, adding the new hole to the mental checklist he kept going. So far he'd let the boy be shot a total of five times, grazed a few more times than that. Damn. When was their luck going to run out? Out of the corner of his eye he caught Mac reaching up to rub the bruise on his cheek.

Jack nodded to him. "You hurting, kiddo?"

"A little. Mostly my leg." Mac let a hand hover over the bandages. Jack caught the slight shiver, the way the kid's hand trembled,and how the lines around Mac's eyes grew deeper. "I think the pain meds are wearing off but it's too soon for me to take more."

"Here."Jack wasn't used to the kid admitting to pain. It prompted him to act, to do something useful. He moved to gather some of the pillows from the other side of the bed, propping them behind his partner. Jack gently nudged Mac to lay back. "How about you follow doctor's order for a change and settle down."

"I was actually doing that before you woke me up," Mac grumbled without any heat. He allowed Jack to help him, his protests at being victim to the older man's mother-hen routine not up to par. Jack suspected that Mac, like him, was also well aware of what his partner needed for reassurance in these situations, so he let Jack fuss over him a bit in the name of brotherhood.

"Yeah, yeah, blame it on me." Jack glanced from the kid's contemplative gaze, one made more powerful by the blown pupils and glassy blue that were probably thanks to Dr. Carl's script. He moved to grab another pillow, gently lifting the kid's leg to place it on top of it. When he was done he pulled the discarded blanket from the bottom of the bed and pulled it over his partner. His next words were meant to be mocking but seriousness bled into them as well. "Everything's my fault."

"I think this goes without saying," Mac waited until Jack once more met his gaze. "But none of this is your fault. You were helping Matty. She needed you."

"Yeah, but she wasn't the only one." Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm always going to need you, Jack." Jack once more found his heart pounding within his chest, the uncharacteristic declaration the cause this time. He cut his gaze to the kid. "But I know even you can't be in two places at once."

"If only that were possible." Jack rubbed a hand over his chin, feigning contemplation. "This world would be a great place if only there were more of Jack Dalton to go around."

"On the contrary, one of you is plenty." Mac yawned, rubbing his eyes, his lids drooping. "Besides, you always come back."

Jack nodded, not trusting his voice, not when his partner looked ridiculously young and trusting. So assured that Jack would be there when it counted. Jack had always given him reason to believe that. Blue eyes held brown, quiet certainty replacing any fear the kid had from earlier.

"You're here now."

"I am." Jack stopped himself from adding that he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, but he knew Mac already believed it just the same. After all, he'd been made that exact promise over and over again by Jack. For years the former Delta had told the kid that he wasn't about to walk away, that he could be counted on to have his back. Always. Jack worked hard for his best friend to believe he was indeed the real deal, the kind of friend, partner, pseudo-parent that stuck around. Mac believed him. Relied on him. The responsibility Jack felt to his best friend had never felt heavy. It was miraculously light compared to the sudden weight of Jack's phone, the one that now felt a bit like a loaded weapon in his pocket. The presence of Tiberius's picture on said phone increasing the load monumentally. It was too big an omen to ignore, a portend that change was possibly on the horizon.

"Stay here-okay?" Mac said, his tired, soft query breaking into Jack's thoughts like the clanging of a gong, bringing his attention back to his hurting partner.

Jack looked at his best friend, the kid he'd come to regard as a brother, even love as a son. Mac's lids were at half mast, he'd reached out and hooked a finger on the sleeve of Jack's shirt.

"For dinner, alright," Mac clarified, blinking. "Bozer's making his famous Mac & Cheese bake."

"Right." Jack cleared his throat, forcing a grin when Mac's hand slipped to the bed once more. "I wouldn't want to miss that." He watched his partner's eyes slip close, waited for his breath to slow and even out as the pain meds once more took affect. Jack couldn't resist reaching out and running a hand over the kid's mussed hair once he'd fallen back asleep, letting it rest on his head for a heartbeat. "I'll be here when you wake up, bud."

It was one promise he could keep. There was absolutely no way Jack was leaving now, not tonight. But as he moved back to his chair, the one he'd pulled close to the bed, his phone buzzed. It had the breathless impact of watching someone pull a grenade pin, not exactly sure if that person was friend or foe. Would they toss it away to obliterate the enemy, or drop it at your feet to bring the world down on top of you? He let his hand rest over his pocket, not sure if he wanted to know, afraid another image of Tiberius Kovacs would be waiting for him.

For the first time in his life, Jack couldn't stop himself from the awful wondering of what might happen when where a man new he was _supposed_ to be suddenly and spectacularly clashed and contradicted with where he desperately _wanted_ to stay.

The end…for now.

A/N: Dear friends, I can't pretend to know where this is all leading on the show. I imagine Jack might rejoin Delta, pulled away by a duty he can't deny. It is sad and discouraging. I know some of us have pulled back, aren't reading the stories or writing like we used to. Don't forget, the Jack and Mac we find in the pages of fanfiction have never truly existed in cannon. Of course we have glimpsed moments, and gauged possibilities that fed our desire to build more but it is in our fertile imaginations that the real bromance grew. It will still be here, even when the show's Jack is gone.


End file.
